


Danno Don't Bet (On the Super Bowl)

by caliecat



Series: Jerseytude [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-16
Updated: 2011-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caliecat/pseuds/caliecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny prepare for Super Bowl Sunday. Part 1 of the Jerseytude trilogy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danno Don't Bet (On the Super Bowl)

"So, what's your line?"

Out of nowhere, Steve had materialized in front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, legs slightly spread, somehow managing to look both relaxed and combat-ready. The smug half-grin suggested this wasn't going to be a case discussion.

Danny sighed and rested his head on his hand, too tired to deal with him right now. "My line?"

Steve loved pulling this crap, throwing out a word or two as though resuming a previous conversation, speaking in that weird military cryptic-code that he hoped you wouldn't understand so he could boost his already giant-sized ego.

"Yes, Danny, your line. Your over/under."

At least he knew what they were talking about this time. "Look, I don't bet, okay? And I don't feel the need to analyze scores and stats like I'm planning a combat mission.  One day a year, that's all I ask, I want to kick back, have a few beers and forget about this demented world you dragged me into."

"Hmm. So you don't care who wins?"

"Of course I do. I just don't make a federal case out of it."

"Then who you are you rooting for?"

"Pittsburgh, whose quarterback, I might add, could kick your ass any day with one hand tied behind his back."

"I doubt that." You had to hand it to the man, if nothing else he was confident. "Why the Steelers?"

This was starting to feel like an interrogation. At least he wasn't hanging off a roof. "I don't know, I guess since the Jets didn't get in—"

"So that's the basis for all the important decisions in your life, proximity to New Jersey?"

Danny held up his hands. "You know what, I have work to do here. So if you don't have anything useful, could you please leave?"

Instead, Steve sat down at the edge of the desk, suddenly serious. "Actually, I came to ask you a question. I'm having a Super Bowl party at my house on Sunday, and I thought—"

"A party?" Danny snorted. "You're throwing a party?"

"Yes, Danny, a party." Steve looked offended. "Why can't I have a party?"

Danny could well imagine Steve's version of a Super Bowl party. A crackpot band of his fellow military psychos wearing camouflage gear and "Go Navy" caps, comparing each play on the field to a tactic they used in _The Stan_ , then discussing the finer points of assault weapons during commercials. As far as he was concerned they were all ticking time bombs like that nutcase Nick Taylor. No thank you.

But he'd ask anyway, to be polite. "Who exactly is going to be at this event?"

"Just us--you, Kono, Chin, and Grace of course."

That didn't sound so bad. "I'd have to check with Rachel."

"What's the problem? According to you, Stan wouldn't recognize a football if it him in the face and Rachel thinks it's something you do with your feet. Why should Grace be deprived of the All-American pastime?"

Danny laughed at that. "Okay, okay, I'll ask her. She owes me a day anyway. Thirteen days, in fact, but let's not get into that now."

"Great!" Steve pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket in those ridiculous cargo pants. "Here, I need you to pick up a few things for Sunday."

Danny quickly scanned the list. _Lomi-lomi. Nori. Poke_. They sounded like something Grace would do on her GameBoy, not food. Plus Spam. And three pineapples.

"What the hell is this?"

"That's for our dinner. Kona's bringing salads and desserts, Chin's got the beer and—"

"What's wrong with you?" He waved the paper in Steve's face. "You can't serve this at a Super Bowl party."

Steve hunched his shoulders, offended again. "Why, what's the matter with it?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I don't—"

"First of all, you need actual meat. Red meat." Danny stood up and started pacing around the office, ticking the items off with his fingers. "Chili, meatball subs, ribs. And chicken wings. Dips. Nachos. Pizza, but only from that Italian place near your house, I don't trust anyone else."

"Huh." Steve looked thoughtful, maybe even embarrassed. Good. Danny needed to get the upper hand once in a while to keep a level playing field. "Except, well, you know I'm not much of a cook, I can't make stuff like you're used to, in, you know, New Jersey."

"Let me worry about that." Danny grabbed a pen and pad off his desk and started a new list. "I'll take care of dinner."

"Really? Oh, man, that would be great, if you're sure it's not too much trouble..."

"Forget about it. Now get out of here and let me figure out what I need to buy."

"Whatever you say, you're the boss." Steve hopped off the desk. "Give me a call when you find out about Grace."

Danny waved him off, already deep in menus and ingredients.  

~~~~~~~

Steve left the office with a spring in his step, humming with satisfaction. Sometimes it was almost too easy


End file.
